Page 46 of Dirty Little Secrets
“She’s a little shy sometimes,” Damon rasps, adding a second finger inside of me, slowly stretching my pussy with every debilitating surging motion. With a devilish grin, he looks at me, pinching my clit as he adds, “Go on, Emery. Tell him.”
“I…” It comes out a shaky breath as my walls clench around his pillaging fingers. “I have a degree in finance and economics from Brown.”
“Really?” Quin asks, impressed. “That’s a good school.”
“Tell him when you graduated,” Damon orders, quickening his pace to a violent speed. My legs clench, face burning as I fist the long linen tablecloth, the only thing shielding our battle. I reign in a moan. “Emery…”
“Twenty-one,” I whisper, spreading my legs further apart because I need him to go deeper. I need him to go faster. I need him to fill me up until I overflow, until I leak all over the fucking chair. “I was twenty-one when I—” He curls his finger, tapping against my G-spot. I rein in a gasp. “When I graduated.”
“What else?” God, I hate him. I can barely see, barely think, let alone talk. “Tell him about all those certificates.”
“I’m also…”
Damon slows down but still keeps a rhythm that activates all the cells in my body.
“I’m a certified management accountant, and a—” His thumb finds the desperate bundle of nerves again. In tortuous circles, he massages me, not quite fast enough to make me explode but enough to keep building the anticipation of inevitable detonation. “And I’m a chartered financial,” I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to defuse the bombs, “analyst.”
“So, you’re a numbers girl,” Quin muses, oblivious to dirty deeds being conducted under our table. Oblivious or a good actor. I can’t tell. I don’t have the mental strength to discern his reaction. “Were you always drawn to the world of mathematics?”
“Yes,” I breathe out, unable to filter my words as Damon continues to torment my insides, changing the course and speed the moment I’m close to release. “Numbers always made sense to me. I like things that make sense.”
“How pragmatic,” Quin hums, and I can barely see his face through my hazy vision. “I like that about you, little Emery.” He chuckles to himself. “Far too many people prefer anidealisticapproach to life.” He grins. I think. “And business.”
My spine arches as Damon’s fingers roam into unchartered waters, a place that hasn’t yet been explored, hasn’t yet been tainted with blinding pleasure. “I prefer facts over…” I swallow, blinking away the unfamiliar sense of rapture. “Fantasies.”
“Clearly.” Quin’s laughter fills my muffled ears. “Ican see why Cavanaugh is so fond of you. You’ve got such an interesting mind.”
“Yes,” Damon chimes in, voice thick and low like Satan himself. “She’s definitely averyspecial girl.”
“I’m happy for you Cavanaugh,” Quin muses. “See? I told you there were more fish in the sea.” Damon’s hand freezes, and all pleasure dissipates as he pulls out of me, glaring at Quin. “What? Am I wrong?” He cocks his head as I scramble to pull myself together, my heart beating out of my chest. “I remember how devastated you were when Alison…left. I’m just saying…” He glances at me, and there’s a tinge of unease crossing his features. “It all worked out, right?”
Alison. She has a name. My stomach twists, and I’m not sure why. It’s not a competition. She’s not my enemy. I don’t even know her. It shouldn’t matter. Damon and I are not a couple. We’re hardly even friends. And yet, her name stings me, burns me, coats my tongue with bitter resentment.
“I suppose it did,” Damon says, teeth gritted, but his words don’t match his body language, his tone, his entire demeanor. And that hurts me. Stupidly, I feel hurt. A feeling I haven't experienced since I was a child. “Don’t worry, Quinton, I’m sure you’ll catch something that’s worth keeping eventually.”
Quin’s expression darkens to a shade I’ve never seen before. “Unless someone steals it again.”
I frown. “What?”
Damon scoffs, wiping the evidence of his actions on a cloth napkin and discarding it. As if it were trash. “Let’s not walk down memory lane, Quinton. We both know that time skews all stories.”
Quin’s lip twitches. “I agree. Timedoesskew stories, especiallyfables.” His gaze darts to me, expression softening. “Perhaps this is why we seek the stories of others, little Emery. We can’t stand to revisit thetruthof our own.”
“I’ve always found truth to be subjective,” Damon says flippantly. “It depends on who’s recounting the event.”
Beneath the material surface of ego and competition, I’m beginning to see the depth of their past. Something happened. Something neither man wishes to blatantly discuss or mention. It’s off-putting. The once blissful sensation soaring through my body has turned to stone, grounding me in the truth of my reality. I’m sitting at dinner with two of New York’s most powerful men. One of which wants nothing more than to see me submit, see me become his obedient little sex doll. The other… Well, the other’s intentions aren’t as clear, but I’m sure that they’re equally as sinister.
“I disagree,” I say after a long pause. Damon frowns at me. Quin lifts a brow. Clearing my throat, I continue. “The truth is rooted in absolute facts. Truthcan’tbe subjective. It either is or it isn’t. There’s no gray area for truth.”
“Spoken like a true accountant,” Quin quips, shoulders relaxing. “But I must concur. I find those whotwistthe facts in order to align them with their own narrative are the worst types of people.” He looks at Damon. “They’re manipulative and evil, if I may be so bold.”
Damon snorts. “That’s rich coming from a man who makes a living selling drugs to the masses with side effects that cause more harm than the disease it’s meant to cure.”
Quin offers Damon a sly smile. “All of thosefactsare transparently advertised to the consumers, Cavanaugh. Try again.” He glances at me. “He’ll grasp at straws until the bitter end. It’s one of his more endearing qualities.”
“You seem to know each other fairly well,” I muse, needing to solve the complex equation bickering before me. “How did you meet?”
“Our fathers were friends,” Quin answers to my surprise. “But…” Damon stiffens beside me. “It wasn’t until my engagement party many,manyyears later that Cavanaugh became such avitalpart of my life.” He cocks his head. “Isn’t that right, Damon? Do you remember that day?” He licks his lips. “Because I do.”
